Affectionate Hearts
by Astonishment
Summary: What if George Wickham and Georgiana Darcy eloped the day before her brother arrived at Ramsgate? Would Mr. Darcy be able to save his beloved sister from a despicable fortune-hunter? What if Elizabeth Bennet toured the Lake District with her relatives during the month of August? Would she make any new acquaintances? (C) 2017


**Affectionate Hearts**

 **Jane Austen Quote:** "…and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to be a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement." ( _Pride and Prejudice_ , Chapter 35)

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

"Oh my dearest, Miss Darcy! You have made me the happiest of men!" George Wickham raised the girl's fingers to his lips and kissed them gently, making sure to observe every propriety. She accepted his arm and he beamed with pride and contentment as they strolled in the brilliant sunshine. This indeed had been a rewarding encounter; the little chit had just accepted his offer.

It had not been nearly as difficult as he had imagined. He was well practiced at pleasing the fairer sex and this girl had been so sheltered and trusting, his standard love recital had easily succeeded. Not that he wanted a wife! Even though she was a pretty young thing, he had no desire to be leg shackled. Her fortune, however, held more than enough appeal.

Indeed, George had barely scraped by these past few years but Georgiana Darcy's dowry would set things to rights. He had always hoped to one day marry an heiress and this one served two purposes; access to her thirty thousand pounds would only be sweetened by the chance for revenge on her close-fisted brother. Fitzwilliam Darcy had been a thorn in his side since their school days.

George's godfather, Mr. George Darcy, had treated him like a son, caring for him during his childhood and sending him to university for a proper education. When the old man had died, he had bequeathed George a living in the church. Of course George had had no desire whatsoever to take holy orders but the value of the living had kept him in fine style – for a few years.

When the money ran out, he had conceded that the church might be an acceptable living after all. Certainly the paltry sum of three thousand pounds he had been paid was nowhere equal to the amount he might have earned over his lifetime; it could have easily been three or four times that amount! And with the added benefit of a splendid cottage and servants to care for him, what could be better? He had returned to Fitzwilliam Darcy, with all due humility, to convince him to grant the living as his father had intended. Yet Fitzwilliam was unmoved; no amount of reasoning or argument would persuade him to change his mind. George had left his childhood home that day vowing his revenge.

He glanced over to his accomplice who was standing a discreet distance away. She gave him a short nod of approval. Camilla Younge had been instrumental in the success of this most excellent plan. She was head mistress of the London school Georgiana attended. When the school year ended, Fitzwilliam had unwittingly hired Camilla as a traveling companion for his young sister and had rented a house in the coastal town of Ramsgate for the month of August. With such a fortunate series of events, George could only conclude that Providence had smiled on him. The path to this happy outcome could not have been smoother.

 **~~o~~**

Georgiana Darcy felt as though she was floating on a cloud. She must certainly be the most fortunate girl in all the world! This had to be her most wonderful dream come true! Mr. George Wickham, the most charming and handsome man of her acquaintance, had humbly declared himself and offered his hand in marriage. She had known him when she was a child and recalled with fondness the time they had spent together, during his school holidays. The elder Mr. Wickham had been the steward at Pemberley, her family home, and she had long admired him and his lively son; the man was always ready with a kind word and a helping hand.

Now Mr. Wickham had become a kind and thoughtful gentleman like his father, and his proposal had been more romantic than any novel she had ever read: _'My dearest and cherished friend, how glad I am that the friendship formed in our youth has blossomed into an enduring affection. I am certain that I could never love anyone even half as much as I love you. This twist of fate that has brought us together after so many years of separation must surely mean that we are destined to be together for eternity. Will you do me the greatest honour of accepting my hand?'_

He had gazed into her eyes with the most tender, loving expression that she had nearly swooned from sheer bliss. Now, the kisses he bestowed on her fingers sent tingles through her skin and left her breathless. Normally, she would have worn gloves when she was out of doors but the August air was so warm and the sun shone so brilliantly, she had cast them off; and she was pleased that she had allowed the brief touch of his lips. It was the most thrilling sensation she had ever known and she could only blush to imagine what it might be like to receive a kiss on her lips.

How gallant he was, offering his arm and escorting her along the promenade, observing every propriety. He was dashing in his coat, tight fitting breeches and exquisite cravat; he was the very essence of genteel respectability. She had no idea how she had managed to attract a man of his calibre but she was infinitely grateful that she had. Of course, since he and Fitzwilliam had been the greatest of friends during their childhood, there could have been no doubt that their paths would cross again one day. But had her brother ever expected it would happen so soon?

 _"_ _Oh dear!"_ Thoughts of her esteemed brother usually filled her with great joy but now she was consumed by shame. Should she not have sought his advice before accepting a man's proposal? Had she been so enamoured with Mr. Wickham that she had spared not a single thought for dear Fitzwilliam? When Papa had passed away, her brother had been her tower of strength, despite his own grief. He had been her protector these past three years, seeing to her every need. She could never ask for a more devoted brother; but see how she had thanked him for his kindness. _"What a selfish creature I have become!"_ she thought.

 **~~o~~**

Camilla Younge saw a look of alarm come over her young charge and immediately approached the couple. "We must return to the house, Miss Darcy," she said, hoping to avoid a tearful scene. She could not imagine what might have set her off but there was no mistake that something was amiss.

George seemed disappointed. "Must you go so soon? The sea is splendid today and I hoped to view it with Miss Darcy." He smiled down at the young girl, who trembled like a frightened kitten.

She held her parasol over the girl, even though she was adequately protected by her own. "I fear she may have had too much sun today, Mr. Wickham. Her fair skin burns so easily," she replied, hoping he would catch her meaning and release the girl.

Fortunately, he took his leave of them and Camilla escorted the girl back to the house on Queens Road with all due haste. "You appear flushed, Miss Darcy. Are you unwell?" she inquired, attempting to distract the girl and hurry her along. "I dearly hope you have not become overheated," she said.

"I am well, Mrs. Younge," Georgiana replied in her usual timid manner; but once they arrived at the house, Camilla advised the lady's maid that Miss Darcy had been in the sun too long and encouraged her to apply cold vinegar compresses to Georgiana's skin. Knowing that the impressionable girl would do as the maid instructed, she went to her own chamber to remove her bonnet and spencer, and collect her thoughts.

George had surprised her by altering their plan to woo the young heiress into matrimony. They had agreed that he would continue courting her for another day or two, and then, when they were certain of her acceptance, he would make his address. It appeared they need not have been so cautious; the girl had lost her pretty little head over George's sweet compliments and flowery praise. Camilla had known Georgiana Darcy since she first joined the London school and never would she have expected the shy, withdrawn girl to fall so easily into their trap. Yet the silly goose had accepted him without reservation.

Now that he was betrothed, however, Camilla hoped George would heed her advice and follow the plans they had carefully laid. They could risk no mistakes. In his rush to secure the girl, George had yet to convince her to fly to the border with him, though he had rehearsed his part well. Georgiana would undoubtedly worry about acting with such haste, as she worried about everything, but she was so besotted that once her betrothed convinced her of the merits of the scheme, they would surely be on their way to Scotland.

Camilla knew the long ride would be most uncomfortable, especially in the August heat; but if thirty thousand pounds was to be the reward, she would endure the stifling temperatures, cramped post-chaise and long hours riding over unfamiliar roads. Ramsgate was the furthest from London she had travelled in her life and even George had never been further north than Derbyshire. The four day journey would no doubt be fraught with uncertainty, but it would be well worth it; she would be rich beyond her wildest imaginings.

Camilla's role in the scheme had been fairly simple: to befriend the girl and gain her trust, providing comfort and gentle advice whenever called for. Now that Georgiana had accepted George's offer, it was also her duty to convince the girl that the journey and the marriage would be undertaken with the utmost propriety. The poor little fool! She would have no notion that running away to Gretna Green was the shabbiest thing imaginable and she would never learn this from Camilla.

Nonetheless, during their journey, Camilla would ensure that Georgiana and George were never alone together, though she had more reasons than mere propriety to keep the two apart; she and George had come to a secret understanding on New Year's Eve. It had been the most romantic and momentous night of her life. When the clock struck twelve, he had declared his undying love, and they had pledged their commitment to each other, despite their unfavourable circumstances. Camilla had had no reservations about their prior arrangement; in truth, she had no desire to marry. All she had required was a good man to love her and warm her bed and George fulfilled that role quite nicely.

But he had been so insistent, the dear man! He had pleaded with her to change her mind, pledging his devotion on bended knee, and how could she refuse such a heartfelt address? She had agreed that when the time was right, they would be joined in matrimony, and now she was determined that no little schoolroom chit would ever change that, even if she did have a handsome dowry. Of course, she understood why Georgiana had fallen in love with George; a handsome man with such charming manners would sweep any girl off her feet. However, George's heart belonged to her and she would not lose him to another.

 **~~o~~**

The following morning, Camilla accompanied Georgiana to the seaside promenade where George was waiting for them. The brilliant sun shining in a perfectly blue sky gave her confidence; nothing could prevent their plan from succeeding. As she had the previous day, she stood a discreet distance from the couple but close enough to hear every word. "My dear Miss Darcy, my own heart, 'come away with me and be my love,'" George said, bowing over her hand and kissing it. [i]

Georgiana smiled and sighed like a silly little schoolgirl. Camilla could not help rolling her eyes at such a juvenile display of emotions. George played well into her romantic fantasies. Of course, he cared nothing for the girl; no – she lacked the maturity of a woman.

"Will you, my love? Will you take my hand and fly to the border with me?" said George.

Camilla frowned, noticing the look of confusion on her charge's face. "The border, Mr. Wickham?" the girl asked.

"Yes, my dearest angel, to Scotland," he said with a charming smile.

Georgiana gasped; her eyes flew open wide and her face grew pale. Camilla hoped that George would proceed with the utmost caution. Nothing must upset the plan; the risk to their future was far too great.

He grasped both of her hands. "I cannot wait three weeks for the banns to be read. I must call you my own as soon as may be," he said, in an earnest voice. His expression was convincingly love-sick; however, she was relieved that he had chosen not to beseech her on bended knee, as he had done on New Year's Eve. That heartfelt moment was theirs alone to share.

"Oh, but I must speak to Fitzwilliam!" she said, a worried wrinkle appearing in her brow.

Camilla held her breath and looked down at the ground. Seeking the guardian's approval was the expected curtesy of any betrothal but it was not part of this plan. George nodded with an indulgent smile. "If that is your desire, my lamb, I shall not deny you. I wish to speak to my dear friend as well, and gain his consent."

The colour returned to Georgiana's face and she assumed a brilliant smile. "Oh, yes! Thank you, Mr. Wickham! That is exactly what I had hoped!"

He wrapped her hand around his arm and drew her closer. "I should never carry you away without your brother's approval, although I know not how I shall endure such suffering until I finally pledge you my troth. That is, of course, if you still wish to marry me," he said, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

"Oh no, Mr. Wickham, I have not changed my mind."

Camilla allowed herself to relax. Everything was going according to plan.

George, too, appeared relieved, kissing her hand. "Oh my dearest, loveliest Georgiana. How happy you have made me!" he said, in an impassioned tone. "I am the most fortunate man in all of England! Fitzwilliam will most certainly be pleased that his beloved sister and his closest friend intend to join their hearts in Holy Matrimony. He shall embrace us and give us his blessing."

Camilla had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing; the two men were _former_ friends at best and there was nothing _holy_ about a Gretna Green wedding. It was little more than a primitive hand-fasting ceremony conducted by a Scottish tradesman, but of course, Georgiana knew nothing of that.

The girl gushed with youthful exuberance. "Oh yes, I am certain he shall!"

George turned to face Camilla, suggesting they set off for Pemberley the following morning. "If Mrs. Younge will agree to accompany us as our chaperone, we shall observe every propriety. As a perfectly reputable lady and your trusted companion, she will give our party an air of respectability," he said.

Georgiana turned to her with hopeful eyes. "Yes, that is an excellent suggestion. Mrs. Younge, you will agree, will you not?"

"I am happy to be of service, Miss Darcy," she said with a dutiful curtsy. She could not help glancing at George; she did so love his disarming smile.

"Then it is settled. I shall make all the arrangements and will be at your door at ten o'clock tomorrow morning," George said, then took his leave.

As they walked back to the house on Queen's Road, Camilla looped her arm through Georgiana's. "You are a most fortunate woman to have gained Mr. Wickham's notice, Miss Darcy," she said, disguising her disgust at her own words. This girl was in no way a woman but she was determined to assuage any lingering doubts Georgiana might have. "He is a most handsome gentleman with such charming manners."

"I hope my brother will approve."

Camilla smiled. "I cannot imagine why he would have any objections to you marrying the desire of your heart," she said.

Of course, George would be true to his word and pay a call on Pemberley; however, not without his ring on Georgiana's finger and a signed certificate in his hand verifying their lawful marriage. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy shall have no choice but to wish them well.

* * *

Dear Mr. Darcy,

Your sister has progressed so well on the piano-forte and her musical talent is so well developed, that we shall begin instruction on the harp next week.

Yours etc.

Mrs. C. Younge

* * *

 **~~o~~**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Jane Austen Quote:** "I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement…" ( _Pride and Prejudice_ , Chapter 35)

* * *

Their journey had only just begun but the oppressive heat inside the carriage was already testing Camilla's forbearance. Georgiana had made no mention of it while she chattered on, her eyes bright with anticipation. So eager was she to tell her _dear_ brother of her betrothal and gain his consent for her marriage to the most wonderful man in the _world_ , that she took no notice of the stifling air or lack of breeze. Camilla's fan had afforded her little relief and she dabbed her forehead with a fresh handkerchief. The drapes had been drawn aside and the windows thrown fully open but even so she feared she might suffocate. Her nerves were frayed beyond repair.

August was an unfortunate time to travel in a closed carriage, though they had little choice in the matter; this opportunity would not come again and she had much better think of the fortune that would soon be hers. She distracted herself by imagining that the bows on Georgiana's muslin gown were pound signs instead; perhaps those joyful symbols of prosperity would secure her future and make her dreams come true.

 **~~o~~**

George had followed Camilla's advice and hired a post-chaise plus four, collecting the two ladies at precisely ten in the morning. The thought of departing at such an ungodly hour held no appeal for him but, as Camilla had reminded him, it behoved them to make an early start; Darcy's servants would certainly send word of his presence at Ramsgate and there could be no doubt that he would attempt to intercept them. However, while Darcy would be traveling south on the Great North Road, George's party would head north on the local roads. With two or three days' lead, Darcy could not hope to prevent George from arriving at the border with his lovely little heiress.

Even though George had no desire to ride horseback for four days, at Camilla's insistence he had hired a horse for himself for the appearance of propriety. She was a bit of a managing female but he could not dispute her logic. He had no desire to give strangers the perception that theirs was an elopement journey and risk some busybody attempting to thwart their flight. As an added element of safety, Georgiana would be considered his sister; certainly no one could object to a man escorting his sister and her traveling companion on a tour of the Lake District.

Yes, he had to give Camilla her due for her preparations and her consideration of every possible outcome, even her prediction that Georgiana would wish to gain Darcy's consent prior to their marriage. Of course, actually presenting himself at Pemberley before the wedding was a fool's errand and George was no fool! He had suggested laudanum as a method of controlling his prospective bride and Camilla assured him that she would administer a few drops when the time was right. Poor, unsuspecting Georgiana would never know when they passed through Derbyshire and were on their way to the border. Of course they still had over three hundred miles to travel, plus the return trip, but George had confidence that Camilla had considered every possibility.

Well, perhaps not _every_ possibility. She seemed oblivious to the fact that George had no intention of sharing Georgiana's fortune at all; as soon as the money was deposited into his account, he would be on the next overnight packet to Calais. There he would burn the marriage certificate, leaving no evidence that he had even been to Scotland. Certainly Camilla was an intelligent woman, but no mere woman was smarter than George Wickham.

The heat of the midday sun scorched him as they reached the road that led northward. His damp shirt clung to his skin and his impeccable cravat had wilted; he could scarcely wait to stop at the next tavern for a refreshing drink. Four days of discomfort lay ahead but Camilla's words gave him the energy to carry on; 'Keep your mind on your reward,' she had said. Yes, he had thirty thousand reasons to forge ahead without complaint.

 **~~o~~**

Late that afternoon, Georgiana finally became drowsy from the constant rocking of the chaise and drifted off to sleep—a welcome release for Camilla. Had she ever given herself over to such nonsensical chatter in her own youth?—she wondered. She had made her come-out to society on her eighteenth birthday and had enjoyed one blissful month of parties and balls when her mother suddenly passed away of an infection of the lungs. While she observed the year of mourning, she had assisted her father, a much-respected headmaster, at St. Hildegard's Seminary School for Young Ladies. Unfortunately, her father too had suffered from ill health but, due to his diligent instruction, the school was never effected by his absence; Camilla had ensured that everything ran according to schedule. In fact, she had found a sense of fulfilment in the work and took pride in the family business.

But many years had passed since then. Her father was gone now, after an extended, painful illness, and any pride Camilla had felt for his beloved school had long since faded. She was now considered a spinster; this unhappy outcome afforded her freedom from the constraints placed on marriageable young ladies, who were not permitted to be in the company of men without an escort. Now known as 'Mrs. Younge', she was permitted to make her own decisions, travel unescorted and engage in business transactions without the benefit of a protector. She supplemented her income with brief employment as a companion for students who needed an escort to travel short distances, and those small payments, together with her stipend as head mistress and her quarterly allowance from her father's estate kept her in reasonably good comfort. Being on the shelf definitely had its advantages.

She and George Wickham had met in London nearly one year before, while he was attempting to scrape by as a clerk in a barrister's office. She was instantly attracted to his handsome mien, fine form, and charming manners; he seemed everything that a young man should be, and they spent as much time together as possible. Previously Camilla had entertained no notion that she would ever marry, as her father had been ill so long that her bloom of youth had passed. Heaven knew, at the age of nine and twenty years, she was well past any hope of marriage! But George had been her constant companion since the New Year.

When they first met, George had an unfortunate compulsion to wager; he insisted that his luck would change and he would make his fortune in a single turn of the cards. Then their happy future would be assured. However, his luck never seemed to improve. After years of leaving his vowels all over Town, his circumstances had become so dire that she had been forced to issue an ultimatum: he must choose between her and the cards. [ii]

Of course, he had given up wagering, which was the only sensible thing to do. Certainly no one could make a living playing cards. George and Camilla agreed that if they could find a promising prospect, their future would be secure. When wealthy Mr. Darcy had requested recommendations for a travelling companion for his sister, she could only imagine that the fates had smiled on her. Of course she had put her own name forward, accompanied by letters of recommendation written by her students' parents and she had been offered the position. Then she and George had hatched the scheme to court the girl and gain her trust.

Now all that was left was to travel to the border, seal the deal and present George's bride at Pemberley for payment of the dowry. Thirty thousand pounds! The very thought made her giddy. They would live in high style, perhaps on the Continent or in the Americas. How thrilling it would be establish themselves in another country altogether; and how delightful never again forced to deal with another pampered, insipid maiden.

 **~~o~~**

Fitzwilliam Darcy rode southward on the Great North Road, smiling at the thought of surprising his sister. He had been tending to business matters at Pemberley with such diligence that there was nothing left to do but take a holiday, and where better than the quiet resort town where Georgiana was enjoying the summer? She had worked so hard at her studies that he could not help indulging her by renting an ocean view townhouse there and hiring a well-recommended companion to accompany her. He had been travelling for two days and nights now and hoped to arrive at the townhouse by noon that day. He could easily imagine how Georgiana might react to his unannounced visit; he dearly hoped to see a look of wonderment on her pretty face.

It seemed an eternity since he had seen her, though it had been merely a fortnight; but in the three years since their father had passed away so unexpectedly, they had scarcely been separated. She was such a sweet girl, eager to please and trusting to a fault, who deserved only the best. Darcy had been thrust into the role of surrogate parent with scarcely a clue how to go about it. Even with the example of his excellent parents and the assistance of his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, Georgiana's other guardian, he doubted his ability to be a proper guardian to a young girl.

A woman would know best how to guide a fifteen year old girl though to womanhood but he had yet to meet a suitable lady to take as his wife. He thought back with revulsion to the last time he had attended an assembly; not a single lady there had impressed him as anything other than an empty-headed heiress or a fortune hunter. No – that type of influence would never do for his beloved sister. His future wife must be sensible, with the ability to carry on an intelligent conversation. He pondered the other qualities he desired in a wife and before he knew it, the carriage was turning onto Queen's Road.

When he arrived at the house, he thought it quite odd that the door knocker had not yet been mounted; but perhaps Georgiana desired to receive no visitors. He alighted from the carriage, bounded up the stairs and knocked on the door, hoping that his sister would be pleased by his surprise nonetheless. When the door was not immediately answered, he knocked again, somewhat annoyed to be kept waiting. At last he heard footsteps approaching and the door opened.

"Mr. Darcy! Thank goodness you are here," said the answering footman.

Darcy stepped inside and instantly noticed that the furniture in the vestibule was still draped with Holland covers. "Certainly you have had ample time to uncover the furniture," he said in a curt tone.

"Sir, the covers were replaced just yesterday."

The drawing room showed the same state of negligence, and his anger rose at the shabby appearance. Surely his staff was more capable than this! "Where is my sister?" he inquired as the hall clock chimed the hour.

The servant bowed his head but made no attempt to respond.

"Mr. Darcy!" the butler rushed in, gasping for breath. "We have been expecting you!"

He could not have been more aggravated. "Apparently not, Mr. Trent. I thought the house would have been better prepared for my sister's arrival," he said, attempting to keep his temper under control.

Normally unflappable, Mr. Trent turned pale and shuffled his feet. "Yes sir, everything was ready when Miss Darcy arrived a fortnight ago but we thought… since she… well…" He broke off, looking down at the floor.

"Where is my sister?" he repeated, sensing something dreadful had occurred.

"I could not help but think that you would be displeased, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Trent said with a pained expression. "She and Mrs. Younge are with… Mr. Wickham."

The mere mention of the name filled Darcy with rage and he lost control of his temper. "Wickham was in this house?" he bellowed.

"No sir!" Mr. Trent raised his hands. "He never visited the house but Hannah said they were to travel with him," he said, referring to Georgiana's lady's maid.

Under no circumstances would he allow it! "I must speak with Hannah this instant," he said. Then thinking it might be best to question all the servants together, he strode purposefully from the room, calling over his shoulder, "Take me to her." The servants were assembled in the lower rooms and jumped to their feet upon his entry, making their bows and curtsies.

"Hannah, Mr. Darcy wishes to speak with you," said Mr. Trent.

The maid stepped forward, trembling and wringing her hands.

Darcy had no desire to frighten the young woman but he must find Georgiana as quickly as possible. "Is my sister with Mr. Wickham?"

"Yes sir," she said, staring down at her feet.

"How did this come about?"

Her voice quivered. "She met him several times on the promenade," she said.

"Did not one of you think to notify me?" He clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth.

Mr. Trent nodded in earnest. "Yes sir, I sent an express to Pemberley last Thursday and another yesterday. We had hoped you would have come sooner," he said.

He was able to recall only one recent letter from Mrs. Younge stating that all was well. Why had she not notified him of Wickham's presence?

"Miss Darcy also wrote to you several times, Mr. Darcy," said Hannah, fidgeting with the folds of her skirt.

"I have had no letters from my sister."

"Oh, ain't she a crafty one!" the cook said, clucking her tongue. When pressed for more information, she revealed that Mrs. Younge had offered to post Georgiana's letters. "She must have burned them instead," Cook said, with a scowl. "I knew there was something havey-cavey about that lady!"

"They are on their way to Pemberley, sir, to gain your consent to their betrothal," said Mr. Trent.

"Betrothal!" Darcy was horrified at the thought.

"Ha! I don't believe that for a minute, Mr. Trent. That scoundrel has carried her off to the border; mark my words!" Cook said in an angry voice. "Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but I must speak my mind."

Darcy suspected that Cook might be right. Either way, he was determined to take immediate action. "What time did they leave?" he inquired. He must be off this instant to recover her.

"It was about ten o'clock," said the maid.

"Well then, they could not have gained too much ground. I shall easily overtake them!" For the first time since entering the house, Darcy felt more at ease. "Mr. Trent, please have the horses put to. I shall leave immediately."

"They left yesterday morning, sir," said Mr. Trent with a grave mien.

Darcy was stunned. " _Yesterday!_ They have a full day's lead!" he said. He had no time to spare! He assumed that Wickham had hired a post coach plus four and would travel on the Great North Road but, even so, Darcy had no hope of catching them in his own carriage; he must ride on horseback if he was to overtake them. He gave his instructions to his servants and headed to the sitting room to write an urgent letter to his cousin. Now, more than ever, he needed Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam's assistance and his strategic expertise. He was about to go to war with George Wickham.

 **~~o~~**

* * *

[i] Line from _The Passionate Shepherd to his Love_ , Christopher Marlow (1564 – 1593)

[ii] Vowels: Promissory notes (I.O.U.s)

 **~~Copyright © 2017~~**

 **(Author's Note:** Please refer to my profile page for more information about this story.)


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